Suicidal Tribute
by LeahLucy
Summary: Seyrin Schmitt, of District 10, wants so badly to be in the Hunger Games to end her life. This is a first: a suicidal tribute. And the year of the 74th Hunger Games, she gets her wish. Will it be what she truly wanted, or will she die with regret?
1. The Reason

**Hello !  
>The end of this chapter is a little bit sappy, but I promise it won't stay that way. Thank you in advance for reading !<strong>

**I do not own any aspect of the Hunger Games.**

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><p>The community home is alright. At least we get to eat 3 meals a day, which is unusual in our district. The animals here aren't for us; they're for the "posh" people of the Capitol. At least there are windows, so it's never too cold in here. The walls of each room are painted a different shade of pastel yellow, but the walls are badly beaten up from all the temper-tantrums. The paint is peeling too, to make it all better. The corners of rooms have piles of dust and bugs in them, because no one bothers to sweep well enough. Or no one thinks to put it outside. Either way, it's gross.<p>

My name is Seyrin Schmitt, and my home is District 10. I am fifteen years old as of last week.

I haven't lived in the community home forever, just since I turned two years old. That day, there had been a stampede of cattle that had escaped from the fields. The Peacekeepers shot at random, killing and injuring both the animals and the citizens. They had put my mother and father in critical condition. My parents are still alive, but they have no memory whatsoever. Not short-term, not long-term. If I go to visit – which isn't often – I bring a poster of who I am and who they are, and why they live with constant help. It's sad really. I don't like seeing my own parents.

Well, I don't like seeing anyone, really. I have a grand total of four friends. I don't like my life, and I have good reason. I don't like the Peacekeepers who smack me for wanting more food, because it isn't my fault that I'm hungry, it's theirs. It's also their fault that I live without parental company. I hate my bedroom, and the annoying little girls I share it with, who don't understand the world around them. I hate the feeling I get in my stomach when I feel unwelcome. Which, unfortunately for me, is everywhere.

But I can handle it.

Well, most days I can. Today is one of those days that come once a year where you wish you had someone like a parent to hold on to. Or anything, really.

As if on cue, all four of my friends burst through the door. As always, I pretend to smile so that they can't see my inner turmoil.

My friends are what the shallow people in town would call "beautiful but unlucky". They're unlucky because A, they have to live in a community home, and B, they deal with me. But they definitely fit the "beautiful" part, and my being here accents that all the more.

Let's just say I'm not exactly a celebrity in District 10.

"Well, well, well, Miss Seyrin. It seems that you haven't prepared yourself for today's reaping yet! Not that I blame you, of course," said Theranne, who has long and flowing blonde hair, paired with bright blue eyes. She's a year older than I am. She spoke with quiet importance clear in her voice, which is nice, because the rest of my friends are loud and obnoxious.

"I'm tired," I respond, lamely.

"Speaking of tired, Rilee, how on earth are you still rubbing the sleep out of your eyes? We woke you up over an hour ago!" Teenan Klore, the chattiest of us all at fourteen years old, practically screamed. She had the same shade of blonde hair as Theranne, which was not uncommon in our district, but hers was cut short; it barely reached down to her chin.

"Geez, Teenan, it's only you that actually has the energy to get through the morning. Lay off the rest of us," complained Rilee. He was always the whiney one. But that might just be because we always tease him about his name being spelled like a girl's. He and Teenan continued to bicker until they're interrupted by a friendly voice.

"Well I, for one, am hungry. So I will be taking my dear friend Seyrin here down to the mess hall to eat breakfast before we all get ready," Trey Drole said with a wink. I smiled, because he was really the only person who could wake me up and I wouldn't be upset. We were born just days apart, so we used to joke that we were twins. Except that we couldn't look more different. His hair is a messy mop of walnut brown, which was very different in this area of Panem, and mine is golden blonde, and pin straight.

His name comes from an old language that wasn't very common, even when it existed. His last name, Drole, originally spelled "drôle", meant "funny", and Trey is from the word "très", which means "very". So he is "very funny". But that was years before the Dark Days. At any rate, I couldn't think of a better name for him, because he is hilarious.

He is the only person I live for. If it weren't for him, I'd have taken my life by now.

I link my arm through his, and we walk downstairs to the mess hall. As usual, the Reaping has taken its toll on the kids who live here, and the room is buzzing with nervous chatter. "Are you worried, Seyrin? You look a little ashen," Trey comments.

"Not any more than usual," I respond.

"But didn't you take out tesserae? You didn't have to do that, you know. We have plenty of food here."

"No, that's just a rumour. Teenan just likes saying that kind of thing," I say, nervously.

I don't like lying to Trey, because he genuinely cares about me, and people in general. I took out tesserae because I want to die in the Games. Maybe I took out too much, because I have taken out enough grain and oil for ten people every year since I turned twelve and was eligible for it. I figure my chances of being picked are too low, anyway. I'm actually excited for the day when my name gets picked from the glass ball. I don't want to volunteer, because that would be unheard of in our District, and people would be suspicious of my motives. Plus, I kind of want to stay, for Trey. But there has to be a better life once we're gone here. That's what I tell people who ask me why I obsess over death. If you want to live, go ahead, but dying is an escape for those who have given up. Yep, that's me.

"Okay," he responds, carefully. I don't think he was buying it.

"Let's just… not think about it. For half an hour. Let's just eat," I sigh.

So we sit and eat. And for the first time in months, we don't say a word to one another.

When we finish, I take off for the stairs to my room while Trey goes up the opposite ones to get to the boys' wing. I lay face-down on my bed, and wish life was simpler.

After about five minutes of this, I pull myself together and get ready for the Reaping. Not that there is much to do. I brush my teeth and hair first, and then get out my outfit. I only have one dress that I wear every year. It's simple; lotus green with a swoop neckline and a gather on either side at the bottom. I add a pearl necklace that was my mother's, and head downstairs to wait for my friends.

On my way down the stairs, I meet Teenan and Theranne, and Trey comes with Rilee shortly afterwards. We head to the square in silence.

By the time we arrive in the square, half of the population of District 10 has already arrived. We're about ten thousand people in all, and so it does get very crammed in there. All five of us sign in and take our places in our respective gender and age-based areas. I stand and stare at the cobblestones beneath my feet.

People continue to trickle in, and I scowl at all the girls who could be chosen instead of me.

The escort for District 10 takes the stage, met by no applause. Her name is Besia Turnvenus, and she is bizarre. Bright green hair that flows down to her waist, and she has skin that gradually turns more and more purple as it extends down the length of her arms. She is stencilled in some sort of gold swirl designs, and her finger nails are bright red. This woman like colour, it's clear to see.

Next are the mentors, but they don't catch my attention.

The mayor follows, and begins to read the history of Panem. We all revolted, Dark Days, blah blah blah. Frankly, I couldn't care less. I just wanted them to get to the girls' name. I tap my toes against the ground impatiently.

He finishes, takes his seat, and Besia steps forward once again. "Helloooo, District Ten! I am your escort, Besia Turnvenus, and I am honoured to be here for the 74th Hunger Games! Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be _ever_ in your favour! Let's get started, shall we? Girls are always first, but let's change it up a bit! Boys, here we go! Who will be our first tribute?" Besia has a terrible Capitol accent; I almost want to cover my ears.

I can't contain my impatience any longer, and I begin shaking like a leaf. But I also am thinking: Please don't let it be Trey. Please, not him.

Besia steps up to the ball of boys' names, and pull out one right from the middle. "Greyson Chelah!" she exclaims. I sigh in relief. _Good_, I think, _I will not have to kill my best friend. I don't even know this boy_. Greyson makes his way to the stage, his eyes flitting about nervously. "Do we have any volunteers?" she continues.

Of course not.

"Isn't this exciting? Time for the girls! Let's see who our lucky tribute will be!" Besia crosses over to the girls' ball and fishes for a slip of paper. I hold my breath, as do all of the girls here. For a different reason though, I assume.

"Seyrin Schmitt!"

Ugh, not again, I have to – wait a minute, that's me. I will be in the 74th Hunger Games!

Teenan gasps. Theranne faints. Rilee's eyes go blank. I can't see Trey from this angle, but I hope he reacts as well.

I hop out of my area and bounce onto the stage, doing my best not to scream of joy.

"Alright, are there any volunteers?" You could hear a pin drop. "Well then, let's have a round of applause for our District Ten tributes!" Besia clasps her hands together, and stares at the silent crowd. She tells Greyson and me to shake hands, and we head off, led by Peacekeepers, to the Justice Building.

They set me in a room to see off all of my friends and family. I don't even notice the exquisiteness of the room; I just want to get out of here.

My first visitors are Teenan, Theranne and Rilee. I wonder where Trey is. He must have requested his own session.

"Seyriiin!" They all shout, hugging me and running hands over my hair. Rilee isn't crying, because he's trying to look manly, but Teenan and Theranne are bawling their eyes out.

"You can't lose! You have to come home! Life will be unbearable without a fifth person in our group!" Teenan says between sobs. "Now we'll have the same number of boys as girls, and that isn't right!"

"You aren't even going to try, are you? You want to die," complains Rilee. I'm about to leave them forever, and he's still whining?

"I promise you all that I will play to the best of my advantage, and I won't lose my head," I say, trying to calm them down before someone hears.

"It's like you don't realize how much you really mean to us, Seyrin. Please, come home," pleads Theranne. I almost want to. But, I can't, and I won't. But that isn't what I tell her.

"Theranne, I will be okay, and will try my best to come see you again."

We all just sit together in companionable silence after that. Eventually, a Peacekeeper comes in to retrieve them, and Theranne gives me a kiss on the forehead. "Seyrin," she says, "You are the closest thing I have to family. Thank you." And just like that, all three of them walk out the door.

The next visitors were really unexpected. My mother and father. They just hug me, over and over.

"Sweetie, I don't know who you are, but I feel like I love you. Stay alive, please," my mother begs. My father nods assent.

That's all that is said, and then they were collected and left the room, after blowing me kisses.

My last visitor is, as expected, Trey. I stand up and run into his outstretched arms. Now I could see that he had been crying, because his eyes were red and puffy. "Seyrin, we're all going to miss you so much. _I _am going to miss you so much. All of our jokes and time spent together really means a lot to me, and I hope you come home so it never has to end," he said. That was the only speech today that drove me to tears.

"You know that I will never forget you Trey, in the arena, and when I get home," I say, choking back my sobs. I hesitate before continuing, "I have to tell you though. I lied this morning when I said I hadn't taken tesserae. I'm sorry."

"I guess I knew. It's okay. Let's just not talk about it." I smile and nod.

Our hour goes way too fast, with him talking strategy and me bringing up our old jokes. Before long, the Peacekeeper comes to take him away. He takes my face in his hands and stares into my eyes. His eyes are beautiful, as blue as the sky on a cloudless day. He leans in and kisses me, then walks out of the room.

"Trey…" I say, my voice trailing after him. But it's too late now, he's gone forever.

The Peacekeepers come in, along with Besia and my mentor, Chelah Liznie, and we set off for the train that will take me and Greyson to the Capitol, and eventually, death. I am a part of the 74th Hunger Games.

But even though I have been looking forward to this moment for ten years, my hand still lingers on the place where Trey's lips met mine.

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><p><strong>R&amp;R please :)<strong>


	2. All Aboard

**If I didn't own the Hunger Games last chapter, nothing has changed for this one.**

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><p>The trip to my death is slow and painful. District 10 is one of the farthest away from the Capitol, and it will take a whole day to get there. Do you have any idea how much I could do in one day with Trey? <em>No<em>, I tell myself,_ you need to let go. Move on. Forget him; you're going to a better place_. But my mind won't let me. My friends have become so much of my life that it seems empty with them gone. Although, it was empty with them here, too.

Two hours have passed of doing absolutely nothing. Since our Reaping takes place fairly early in the morning, we arrived on the train just after lunchtime. I haven't been in my room, or any room other than the one we stepped into. It was a normal room, with a couple booths with tables and windows taking up whole walls. But I was so bored. To make matters worse, Besia Turnvenus is a royal pain in the butt, and Greyson just hides in his room, crying. Chelah Liznie is trying to be comforting, but I don't want to listen to her in case I decide to change my current plan. My current plan is what, you ask? My plan is to not have a plan.

Besia shrieks something unintelligible in her stupid accent, and then goes running for Greyson. The two of them emerge together. Besia is pulling his arm while Greyson rubs his eyes with his free hand. Besia turns to me and says, "Look, you two are boring me to tears. Do something! Play a card game, watch TV, anything! All he does is cry, and all you do is sit and sulk. This is the only reason why my job gets boring!"

Ouch. It's true, but it's only because of her that I don't do anything. I scowl at her and turn away.

"Chelah, try to make conversation. I'm going to the kitchen," Besia says. She turns on her heels and stalks away. It's strange, I've never watched her walk before, but she looks unnatural because she trips on everything. Even when there's nothing to trip on, Besia manages to fall over. It would be hilarious if I wasn't in a terrible mood.

Both Chelah and Greyson begin speaking at once, and then both abruptly stop. This makes me laugh.

"I just realized that Greyson's last name is Chelah! So if you two got married, you would be Chelah Chelah! Please get married!" I burst out laughing again, but this time at my own ridiculous comment. Both Greyson and Chelah look at me, and then start laughing too.

Greyson's mentor, Peten, who has remained silent this whole time, suddenly stands up and chirps, "That's enough! You people are bipolar! It's time to talk about how you're going to survive."

I giggle to myself. "If one of us is going to survive, it should be Greyson. So he can marry Chelah." This brings on a new round of laughter that won't last, because Peten slams his fist down on the table.

"You are not one to decide who is going to win these Games, Seyrin. The sponsors make or break your Games, and we are going to impress them at the interviews by outshining all the other tributes! I suggest we begin by watching the videos of the other Reapings. Go sit in the second car of the train, while I get Besia."

"Aw man, do we have to? I was hoping I could just sleep all day," Greyson chimes in, purposely trying to annoy Peten. I have to admit, Peten angry was pretty funny.

"Don't start with me, boy. I won these Games too, remember," Peten retorts. He storms off to the kitchen car.

Greyson smirks and stands up to leave the room, followed closely by Chelah. "Aren't you coming, Seyrin? We wouldn't want Peten to have a hissy fit," she says with a smile, as she holds the door for me. I decide that these people aren't terrible after all, and walk through the open door to watch all my opponents get chosen to have the same fate as me.

As I enter the room, I am taken aback. Apparently, I should have been spending my sulking time in here, because everything is homely. The community home was a house, unwelcoming. This was a home, in the way that a household should be. Big, plush couches and pilliows, rich velvet curtains covering the windows and a huge TV are just the first things I see. Then I notice the deep maroon coloured carpets that are fluffy and warm, and the gold walls that reflect the light coming from the bulbs set in the ceilings tiles. In fact, everything in the room is that dark red with gold sparkled throughout. It was like walking into a cozy fire.

I look over at Greyson, who's having a similar reaction. His jaw has dropped through the floor. He shakes his head to return to reality, and then asks Chelah, "Are all of the Capitol trains this nice? When I win, I can sit in here again, right?"

She laughs and replies, "Of course, Greyson. Only the non-commercial trains are like this though. The transport trains have nice interiors, but aren't as luxurious. Just you wait until you see your room in the Training Centre. Then you will have experienced the best the Capitol has to offer, beside President Snow's mansion."

"Have you been inside the mansion, Chelah?" I ask, because now I was genuinely curious. We all take our seats, Chelah next to me and Greyson on a similarly designed reclining chair.

"Of course. All of the Victors go there on their Victory Tour, and there's a huge party. If you mentor a tribute that wins, you're also invited. So I've been twice, once for my tour, and once for Peten's."

Both Greyson and I are shocked. I manage to choke out, "You... You... You were Peten's _mentor_? But... you're so young! You can't be older than thirty, and he looks about fifty!"

"My dear Seyrin, he won the year after I did. It was bizarre that District Ten managed to win two years in a row, considering it was my first year as a Mentor. And Peten looking old is a result of his terrible drinking. Don't worry though, he should stay sober until you two are in the arena."

As she says this, Peten walks through the door with a reluctant Besia. "So you guys were talking about me, huh? I guess I didn't expect any better of you," he spat and took a seat on one of the other couches.

Besia was clutching a mug of some liquid that smelled sweet as if it were her lifeline. _Hot chocolate_, my mind reminds me. She got some as soon as we got on the train. We haven't even had a meal here yet, and she's had mug after mug of that stuff. I wonder if it's addicting.

She takes a seat next to me, and Peten turns on the TV, inserting the disk that will show me my fellow tributes. An idea pops into my head. _Even though we should be watching this to know who will be hard to beat, I should watch to decide who I want to be killed by. Hopefully, I'll have the choice_. I'm happy with this thought, and the tape begins to play.

We go through the districts in order. In the first there is a big boy with curly hair, and his partner is a girl who looks like a model. Both volunteered. I don't like either of them.

In District 2, both tributes volunteered. There is a huge boy (he could be one of the bulls from our district, based on build) and he is paired with a smaller girl (with an equal amount of muscle). I don't like them either, mostly because they scare me.

District Three provides a shrimp looking girl and boy, and neither look like they could kill me if they tried.

The district by the sea had volunteers too. They were yet another big boy and muscular girl. The Careers this year were pretty big, and terrifying. I think I'll die at someone else's hands.

In the fifth district, there was a boy who was nothing spectacular, and then a girl whose face looked like a fox. I immediately didn't like her, because a fox killed one of my chickens when I was little in the community home. Neither of them would have the honour of ending my life.

Districts 6 through 8 were nothing out of the ordinary, just the kind of kids who went every year. The ones who had been underfed their whole lives and probably couldn't even pick up most of the weapons.

In District 9, there was a girl who looked fierce, and probably wanted to come home. With the Careers, this was unlikely, but I had to hand it to her for planning on trying. The boy didn't catch my attention, just another shrimp.

As soon as they came to our district, I stopped breathing. I did not want to watch this. No one had said much the whole time other than to comment on the size of a tribute, but suddenly there was a tension in the room. Chelah put a hand on my shoulder, trying to comfort me. But once the tape rolled through our Reaping, it didn't even look like me. I couldn't believe that I had been there. It was like watching a movie, or just like another district. If it hadn't been me, it would have felt the same. But as soon as Chelah commented on how I looked nice, I went numb, and put my face in my hands.

Trey had said the same thing while he was talking strategy.

"_At least you look nice. The sponsors will like that. You're very pretty, you know," he said with a blush._

"_Thanks, you're not so bad yourself," I had responded, winking._

I shuddered and tried to concentrate back on the screen. Our Reaping was finished, two more to go.

District 11 was interesting enough. There was a 12 year old girl, which always upsets people, but she looked smart. Not strong enough to kill me, though. The boy, on the other hand, could crush me with one hand. He was easily as big as the boy from Two, and likely just as strong. But that meant he scared me, so he would not get anywhere near me.

Finally, the tape showed us District 12. First, another 12 year old girl was reaped, but quickly her older sister had volunteered. Bizarre for such a poor district. This, I found honourable. Taking the place of someone you love is true compassion. I find myself wishing that someone had volunteered for me. _No_, I hiss in my head,_ you want to be here. Suck it up, you have no saviour_. Except for Trey Drole. There isn't a doubt in my mind that if he could have, he would have volunteered for me. Stupid gender rules. I turn my attention back to the screen, where the tributes' only mentor falls off the stage. Besia is the only one who can manage to laugh, because the rest of us are in shock. Then the next tribute, a boy with blonde hair, is chosen. I decide I want one of them to kill me.

And then the screen goes black, because apparently Peten thinks we've seen all we need to, and there's no need to get attached to certain tributes. _No_, I think,_ because I won't know them for very long anyway._

We all leave the room, and I go back to sitting on the floor of the main room. The mentors head to their chambers, while Besia goes back to the kitchen for more hot chocolate. "Dinner is in an hour!" Besia calls to us as she leaves. Only Greyson follows me.

"So Seyrin, are you and Trey dating?"

I look at him, shocked. "No," I retort, "Why? Do you have an opinion on it?"

"No, not at all. I think that he likes you though; he came to visit me in the Justice Building. We were friends before he went to the community home. He asked me to do my best to keep you alive, even if neither of us wins. I just wanted to know if you were dating, because it didn't make sense to me."

"Oh," I said, now even more shocked. "Well, he's my best friend. Funny, he never mentioned you. Actually, he didn't mention anyone from before his life in the community home."

"I understand. You can't blame him though; his parents died. I assume the memories were not pleasant to talk about."

I thought about this. Trey's parents died in the same stampede that took my parents' memories. But they were killed by the animals themselves, not Peacekeepers. Greyson continues, "I bet you would give anything for him to be here with us right now."

"Yeah, I guess I would." I say this slowly, not really sure where Greyson is going with this conversation.

He looks around, then whispers, "Good thing he is, then."

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><p><strong>Review please!<br>Love it? Let me know! Hate it? I'd love to hear why! :)**


	3. Meals and Wheels

**Thanks for reading! :)  
>I do not own the Hunger Games.<strong>

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><p>"W-w-what do you mean, Greyson?" I stutter, my voice low. "How could Trey possibly be here?"<p>

"Look Seyrin, don't say I never did anything for you," he responds, and pulls me into his room on the train. "We don't have very long, so we have to make this quick."

As he pulled me into the room, I realized that I had really been missing the good parts of the train. First the TV room, and now this room was lovely. It wasn't spectacular, just a comfortable-looking bed, big windows, and other furniture made of cherry-stained wood, but it was comforting. I wish I had explored before plopping myself down to sulk earlier. Maybe Greyson had the right idea, being in here.

"There are no cameras or recording devices in here, Seyrin, because they want us to have some privacy. Plus, no one cares about what we do in here," Greyson continues, leading me to his closet. He thrusts open the door, and lo and behold, my best friend is sitting on the floor.

"Well, if it isn't Seyrin Schmitt. I thought I had lost you forever, you know," Trey says with a wink, and I smile in return. I go and sit next to him on the floor, and he wraps an arm around my shoulder. "I see my old friend Greyson Chelah has led you to me, and you probably have a billion questions. But I just want to tell you one thing first: I'm not here because I snuck onto the train."

"Okay." I take a deep breath and pinch myself, just to make sure I'm not dreaming. "Then why didn't you tell me you were coming? And why are you sitting on the floor of a closet? Also, why haven't I seen or heard of you until just now?"

"Well, dear Seyrin, I'm actually here because as the Peacekeeper led me out of your room after our goodbye, he told me that one of the kitchen crew members had gone missing. I guess it was a younger boy, and he had run into the district to hide." Trey looked at me, then at Greyson, and found that our expressions were shockingly similar. I guess he hadn't told Greyson the story yet. "He asked me to join the crew. There are a lot of rules, let me tell you, and I'm surrounded by Avoxes, but I was just happy to come."

My jaw should hurt from falling through the floor so many times. Everything today is a complete shock. Greyson speaks up. "Then why did you ask me to hide in my closet?"

"I kind of... ran away. I was so sick of making food that I couldn't eat, and I wanted to see you guys," Trey says, as if this was obvious.

We all just sit there for a few minutes, no one saying anything. Greyson and I are busy letting the information soak in, and Trey is deciphering our expressions. Finally, I decide to break the silence. "So, are you going back to the kitchen, or hanging around in here until we get to the Capitol? I hope you realize we can't feed you if you sit in here."

"I know," he says, "And I think I will go back. But how will I explain the hour of absence?"

"Oh, that's easy," I respond. "Just say that we told you to help us out, maybe with cleaning Greyson's room, and since you have to cater to our every need, you complied."

"But only tell them if they ask. Slip in at dinner when we go," Greyson adds. He checks the clock on the wall, and says, "Which is in five minutes, by the way. Go get ready, Seyrin."

Without another word, the closet gets closed with Trey concealed inside, and I head off down the hall the way I came to get to my room. I'm shocked when I open the door to find that it is almost an exact replica of Greyson's room, other than the different coloured bedspread and walls. His are blue, while mine are a soft yellow. I guess they want us to be able to distinguish them somehow. I open the drawer to find my selection of clothing. Never have I ever seen so much clothing crammed into such a small space. It just makes me more depressed, but this time for the hands in another district that are forced to make these. I decide that it certainly is best that I wear as many as possible, to make their work worthwhile.

The experience touches me in a way that I never thought clothes could. I've never been one of those people who obsess over what they wear. But somehow, just seeing that drawer full of things to wear, a luxury I've never had, makes me think that all of this is wrong. Why do they do this if we're all going to die anyway? And why do we have to die in the first place? The people who are forced to make our life wonderful for the next week must be crushed every year when we all die. And then there's our friends and family. The thought almost makes me regret choosing this fate for myself. Before I can succumb to the regret, I throw on some clothes – which end up being a blue t-shirt and shorts – and head to the dining hall.

Greyson and Trey are standing outside the heavy wooden closed doors, waiting for me so that we can slip Trey in unnoticed. For the first time, I notice that Greyson has a limp. I can't believe I didn't see that at the Reaping, or at all today.

The two of them are whispering angrily to each other, probably about how to do this, when suddenly, Trey takes my hand in his, and Greyson follows suit. I think about shoving them off, but I assume it's part of the plan. Plus, I'm already depressed, no need making them upset too.

Greyson pulls back one of the two doors, and walks in, still holding my hand. Trey follows closely behind us. When we walk towards the gleaming kitchen door, he slips inside. His fingers trail across mine as he releases my hand, and the simple action sends shivers up my spine. _No,_ I tell myself,_ you can't feel this way. It will break his heart when he watches the District 12 kids kill you._

Somehow, Greyson is still gripping my fingers as tightly as he can without hurting me, and we sit down, side by side.

The kitchen door shoots open, and purple fingers emerge, followed by the rest of Besia. She's holding yet another mug of hot chocolate. Big surprise there.

Eventually Chelah and Peten join us at the table, and before anyone can say much, food is being poured out around us. And I get that same twinge in my stomach as when I saw the clothes; this is wrong. I push it away, and focus on the strategy and food laid out in front of me. If this is my last week, might as well enjoy it. If that's possible in such a horrifying world.

"So I was thinking, for both of you, your approach could be innocent. Underdogs, so to speak. Nothing at your reaping was out of the ordinary, so I want you to blend in until you get your chance to shine," Chelah says, pointing her soup spoon at Greyson and me, drawing an invisible line connecting us.

Of course, Peten immediately objects. "No, Chelah. That never works. I want them in with the Careers. Got that, you two? Train hard, hang around them, and act tough. Be strong. It's the best way to survive."

"Peten, what would you know? You won your Games by hiding everywhere: rocks, caves, mountainsides. And then you killed one person, at the very end."

"At least, then, you two should learn some survival skills."

Greyson and I were just sipping our carrot and lemon (odd combination, but delicious) soup, trying to listen but too busy gorging ourselves. It was clear, here, that we would have to speak up. So I pipe in, "Like what, fire-building and climbing trees?"

Peten is first to respond. "There won't be a tree station. I was thinking edible plants, knot-tying, that kind of thing."

"I'm not good at anything, really," Greyson says, dropping his eyes to the floor. "At least Seyrin knows how to hide."

It's true. I've spent the majority of my life in hiding. At the community home, I would hide to skip meals if I didn't feel well so that I wouldn't have to go to the nurse, from my friends if I wasn't in the mood to talk to them, or from Peacekeepers if I'd been foolish. Also, District 10 never really liked me; I was always in a grumpy mood (for good reason) and stomped around a lot. When I was younger, I would try to steal candy from shops. I was not a celebrity.

"But that's only because you have a limp, Greyson. I'm sure that there are things you can do," I say, looking sympathetically into his azure eyes. His eyes draw you in; make you want to stare at them forever. I gaze into them, unblinking. Greyson is sweet, kind, and his eyes are magical...

Peten's voice brings me back to our situation. "It's true, Greyson. Perhaps some of the tributes will take pity on you. Not the Careers, of course."

"So that's why you want them in with the Careers!" Besia squeaks. Everyone looks at her, because it's the first time she's spoken during the meal. She looks back down at her empty bowl of soup, probably feeling dumb. I'm glad; she's annoying. Everyone is annoying. Except Greyson and Trey...

Chelah smiles and shakes her head slightly. There must be something that they aren't telling us. This is why I don't like people. They keep secrets, manipulate you, and kill you. Mix that all together, and you get the Hunger Games. No wonder I hate this world.

The Avoxes (and Trey) come in and change the courses on the table. An Avox with beautiful brown hair sets down a bowl of lamb stew in front of me. I've never been a fan of lamb, but this is delicious. I tune out of the conversation, and eat everything that's set in front of me. People are carrying around different trays of food, and I eat some of each. Pastas with rich and creamy sauce, fish with spices, roast pork in maple syrup. Some of these things I would eat at home if I were rich. I try to identify where each item came from. Most of the meats, obviously, are from our district. District 11, agriculture, supplies most of the rest of the dishes, as well as Four, which is all the seafood.

More and more plates of rich food come in, and suddenly, I can't eat any more. My stomach is just not going to hold it. I want more of that chocolaty dessert though.

I'm so caught up in my world of food that I don't notice that Greyson has been poking me with his fork, trying to talk to me. I zone back in. "Earth to Seyrin? What's your opinion?"

I pinch my eyebrows together, trying to think of what they're asking me. "Uhh." I give up and decide to ask. "Opinion on what, exactly?"

Besia, who apparently got over her moment of stupidity, pipes in, "On what colour the sky will be when we arrive in the Capitol! I know it's your first time going there, so we're making you guess!"

"Well, what time will it be there?"

"Approximately eight in the morning, darling." I make a face at her, and hope that she notices. _Ugh, please don't call me darling_, I mentally say to Besia.

"Then I'm going to go with blue. Like normal." I think that was a no brainer.

"Well, I guess you'll see in the morning. Tomorrow, as I'm sure you know, you'll have to up fairly early to eat here. Then, you're going to be all made up for the chariot ride," Peten says.

"Don't fight over your costumes; they'll be just fine. I'm not saying you'll look good for sure, but get over it," Chelah warns us. "Now go to bed, we're done here."

Greyson decides he can hold my hand again, and we walk together out the doors of the dining room. As I turn around to shut the door behind me, I see Trey peeking out from the kitchen, glaring at the hand that's intertwined with Greyson's.

Is he jealous? Part of me hopes so. I've never had a boyfriend before. But most of me is hoping he isn't, because I don't want him to be hurt when I die.

Neither of us have much to say when we get back to our rooms. Since my room isn't as far down the hall as his is, he stops at my door. "Look Chelah, I know you aren't looking forward to this. But your best friend is here, and he and I will support you no matter what." I try not to notice that he puts emphasis on the words 'best friend' as if it will never be anything more.

"Are you kidding me? I've been waiting my whole life for this," I respond, shocked that he didn't clue in.

"You want to win, or you want to die? I have a feeling it's the latter."

"Look, I don't want to talk about it. Goodnight," I say, opening my door. I'm avoiding his gaze, because I know that if I look into his eyes, I'll be trapped.

He doesn't let go of my hand though. Instead, he runs his free hand run the side of my face, and delicately makes me to look up at him. I'm instantly at his mercy once my hazel eyes meet his, blue as the sea. They remind me of Trey's. But Greyson's seem more magnetic. "Seyrin, I will do everything I possibly can do protect you, even if you want to die." He kisses the top of my head, and disappears down the hall, limping as usual.

I step into my room in a daze. Is it possible that Greyson cares about me? Doesn't he want to win? I'm sure I'm a close second if he had the choice. But something about the whole situation is wrong. If anything, I should like Trey.

I stumble into my bed, which is as comfortable as I had imagined. It must be made of feathers. Great, now I feel bad for the people who made the bed. This world is sick and twisted. I flick the light off.

As I lie awake for what feels like hours, my mind is at war. Does Greyson like me? Does Trey like me? Do I like either of them? I'm so confused, because yesterday no one loved me. But at least one of us, possibly two, will be dead by the end of the week, and it won't be Trey. So I try to suppress the thoughts, and concentrate instead on my new mantra: _Life sucks, and then you die._ It really does suit my situation perfectly.

Somewhere along the lines, I fall asleep. I dream of nothing other than two boys' faces, and the week to come that will rid me of those faces – and everyone else's – forever.

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><p><strong>Reviews are love :3<strong>


	4. Not an Accident

**A/N: Oh look, she finally updated. Don't worry, I still love this story! But things are going to change a little bit during this chapter.**

**This is FAN fiction. One should assume, therefore, that I don't own the Hunger Games.**

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><p>I woke up to the sound of screaming. Not a pleasant thing to hear in the morning, mind you, but that's life for you. Like I always say: it sucks.<p>

Slowly, as I became coherent, I realized that the screaming was Besia's. All that it was doing was giving me yet another reason to despise her. I got up to see what was going on. I followed the sound to the dining hall.

As I pushed open the large doors, five sets of eyes set themselves on me. Two mentors, one tribute, and two Avoxes. Of course, the Avoxes immediately averted their gazes back to the trays they were holding.

What I didn't find was the source of the screaming, which had, for the moment, subsided. Despite the eyes that followed me, I walked into the kitchen.

The kitchen wasn't as grand as I had been expecting. The whole train was extravagant and beautiful, but the kitchen was actually quite small and contained. The Avox workers were stumbling about, trying to get around the things in their way without dropping whatever they were holding. You know that expression, 'there are too many cooks in the kitchen'? Well, it sums up the scene in front of me pretty well.

I pushed through the crowd, ignoring all of the strange looks I was receiving for being there. As I reached the back of the room, I found Besia sitting in a corner, furious. Her hair was flopping all over the place, and her hands were shaking. She didn't notice my standing there, or if she did, she didn't say anything. All Besia did was stand up, walk over to the nearest Avox, and slap him. Or, I thought it was an Avox.

"Ow!" he exclaimed, while he turned to face Besia. His eyebrows crunched in, and those blue eyes turned from alluring to menacing. I held back a gasp as I looked at a very angry Trey. "What was that for?" he continued.

"How dare you question the actions of a mentor? I am from the Capitol, puny District boy, and my power alone can crush you and your family!" Besia retorted, her face turning a peculiar shade of magenta. It made her look even weirder, which I hadn't thought possible.

Trey's expression softened, and then he developed a sudden interest in the kitchen floor. "I don't have a family," he muttered.

Besia turned her nose up. "Well, that isn't my problem. The more important issue is that the kitchen has run out of hot chocolate. See to this problem immediately!" She turned for the door. All of the Avoxes made a pathway for her to walk through, and she stalked out the door.

Suddenly, Trey seemed to notice that I was standing there. "Oh. Uh, hi Seyrin. I guess you can see that my job sucks." He blushed and turned away.

Have you ever been having such a bad day that one little thing that someone says can drive you crazy? I had gotten out of bed not ten minutes ago, and already Trey had thrown a burning match on the gasoline that was my day.

The match cause a spark, which exploded into a blazing fire inside of me. How dare he talk about the situation as if he was getting the worse end of the deal? For the first time, I realized what I had gotten myself into. I was going to cease to exist! He could at least be sympathetic! And he was complaining about getting yelled at? I decided to yell at him too. "Not as bad as my job, you blubbering idiot!"

If I'd taken the time to look at his expression, I'm sure it would have been hurt, but I didn't want to be near him. I stomped out the same way that Besia had left just moments before. As I entered the dining room, I hear some loud metal clanging coming from the kitchen. I guessed that Trey had lost his temper and was now throwing things around. Well, he isn't the only one who could do that. I picked up my ceramic plate and threw it at the door to the kitchen. It was quickly followed by everything else set at my place at the table. I turned and fled, ignoring Peten's angry expression, along with Greyson and Chelah's worried ones. I was making a beeline for my sleeping chambers to go and hide in my bathroom.

I sat in the shower and punched the wall until my fists bled.

I don't know how long I sat on the bathroom floor after that, just hugging my knees and rocking back and forth.

But after a while, Greyson came into my room, holding a plate (I noted that this one was plastic) of eggs. I ate them hungrily while he sat on the bed and watched. Finally, he spoke up. "You know Seyrin, you have a good throwing arm." He laughed to himself, and then turned to leave. Before he looked back at me and said, "We're almost to the Capitol. Don't you want to see it? Besia's been gloating about it. Well, only when she wasn't muttering about hot chocolate or how you're breaking the rules." He smiled, and left me alone again.

Maybe I would have gone to look out the window, but I decided that my time was better spent sleeping. So I had a nice nap instead.

For the second time that day, I jolted awake to the sound of Besia's screams. This time, she was in my room, yelling at me to get up because we had arrived in the Capitol. Whoop-dee-do. She reminded me that today it was the stylist's job to make us look camera ready. I could hardly wait to see what horrible outfit I would have to wear to parade around the Capitol.

I stepped off the train. The first thing I felt was the sunshine on my face, so I closed my eyes to savour the moment. Then I remembered that I was supposed to be excited to see the Capitol, so I opened them to survey the scene around me.

When they describe the Capitol to you in school, never believe them. It isn't all that great. It's just a bunch of tall, shiny buildings. And it's loud, and the air smells terrible. Believe me, District 10 gives off some strange odours from the animals, and it smelled better there than it does here. But maybe I just hate it everywhere, because Greyson's eyes were huge as he took it all in. For someone who was eighteen years old, he sure didn't look it, especially at that moment.

Some Peacekeepers came and escorted us to the Training Centre. We'd be staying on floor 10. District ten, floor ten. I could remember that.

The room that was assigned to me looked just like the one on the train, except the window was bigger and the bathroom was nicer. And if it was possible, the bed seemed even fluffier. I quickly undressed and walked into the bathroom, intending to take a shower so that I could push every single one of the dozens of buttons on it. Instead I found three animals sitting on the counter.

Okay, so they weren't animals. But they could've passed for them. They all had huge eyes, and pigmented skin. There were two women and a man. The man looked like a panda, because he was pure white with big black spots. He had green hair, which looked like grass coming out of his head. One of the two women was all orange with black stripes, and her face was all pinched towards her nose. She looked like a sad tiger. The last of the three was the most normal, because she was only slightly tinted pink. But her nose was large and round.

How ironic that my prep team would be dressed as a panda, a tiger and a pig, since District 10 is for raising animals. Ha, ha. Fate sure has a sense of humour. It's part of what makes life bearable.

Anyway, all three of them screeched and ran to hug me. I gave them death glares and they backed away. "So you're my prep team, huh?" I said, meaning for it to be a rhetorical question. But they all nodded.

The man stepped forward. "Shall we make you pretty?" he asked. I didn't think it was possible, but his accent was worse than Besia's. Without waiting for me to answer, they handed me a bathrobe and made me sit.

So the next few hours were basically a living hell. First they ripped all of the hair off my body, along with a few layers of skin. They shaved all my calluses – which I'd worked hard to get, mind you – and clipped my nails. Basically, every part of my body that could be seen as unnecessary was ripped off, except for my eyelashes and eyebrows. My skin burned. I felt like I'd been dipped in hot oil.

After my nails and face had been painted girly colours (yuck), my stylist walked in. He was middle aged with a long, black beard, but no moustache. If he wasn't blue from head to toe, he would look normal. "Hello," he said, with an accent that wasn't quite Capitol, but it was still bizarre.

"Um, hi," I responded.

"So you must be wondering what you shall wear?"

"Um, yes." I responded, shaking a little bit. He was really tall.

"For goodness sake, stop saying 'um'. We'll need to work on that for your interview." He shook his head. "Anyway, here is your outfit."

He opened a garment bag, and I rolled my eyes. Seriously? A cowgirl? You've _got_ to be kidding me.

After enduring the torture of putting the blasted thing on, I looked in the mirror.

Now, I wouldn't go so far as to say it looked good on me, but it actually looked okay. It made me look thin, and the red plaid made my blue eyes shine. I guess that the makeup probably helped make them shine, too. All in all, I don't look terrible. But the hat doesn't fit on my head very comfortably.

My prep team all take turns kissing my hands, and then Besia comes to collect me for the ceremonies. I don't even remember eating lunch.

When we entered the elevator, Besia and I found that we weren't alone. The pair from District 11 were with us. The little girl smiled at me and held my hand. To be honest, I was a little surprised. But she seemed so sweet, so I ended up brushing my free hand through her hair. I might mention that this was no easy task, because she had leaves braided delicately into her hair. I always wanted a little sister.

Of course, we both immediately stopped once the elevator doors reopened. We all walked into the room to go and sit in our chariots. The horses for District 10 were a red-brown colour, and the muscles on their legs were huge. I felt at ease, knowing that they would be able to support us, so I began stroking their necks.

After a few minutes, Greyson limped over to join me. He didn't look very happy. Although, if the situation were reversed, I would be unhappy too. He was dressed like a giant cow. I tried to contain my laughter.

He turned and glared at me. "Do you think that this is funny?"

I nod and smile. "Yes, actually. It's like I own you, since I'm a cowgirl."

"Well, Seyrin," he spat, "it isn't. You'd think that if I was trying to save you, you could be a little more sympathetic."

I did a double-take. "Save me? Why?"

He sighed. "Seyrin, our parents were friends. Close friends, actually. When I was six years old, my family went to visit yours. I sat on my father's lap while they talked. It was getting late, so you were fast asleep in your mom's arms."

"Hey," I interrupted, "I would have been two. Cut me some slack."

He ignored that I'd said anything, and continued, "Our parents were talking about how I'd started school the year before. Your dad was worried about your first day of school, so he asked me to make sure that you stayed safe. At that age, I'd wanted to be a bodyguard, so I nodded my head and promised that I would help you forever."

"Okay," I said, drawing the syllables out. "But that was twelve years ago."

"I know," he responded, trying to be patient. "A couple weeks later was when the animals got loose, and your parents lost their memory. I was permanently crippled. So it's like a reminder to me, of that night." He smiled at me.

Before I could respond, there was a voice over the loudspeaker telling us to get in our chariots. Then the music began.

It wasn't until that moment when I had officially decided that I wanted to go home. It had been a subconscious kind of feeling, but in that moment, I thought about how much nicer this all seemed on TV. When we would watch it in the community home, I would be squished onto a couch with another ten kids. All of my friends would be by my side, and we would all yell out our opinions on the costumes. But here, sitting in the chariot, I'm not allowed to say anything at all. And that made me sad.

As we rode around the City Circle, I pretended to be happy. Greyson and I looked opposite ways, not even acknowledging each other. It was sad, really. I bet he was getting a lot of attention, being dressed as a cow and all.

I didn't even pay attention to anything else going on around me.

When the ceremony was over, we rode back into the stables. Chelah greeted me with a smile, and Peten with a scowl. But no one spoke.

I couldn't help but notice how everyone was whispering. Apparently, some tributes were set on fire. On purpose. But I didn't think it was all that great. I mean, that was my best prank back in District 10, and everyone hated me for it. So why is it so spectacular now?

I hobbled to the elevator with Greyson and the mentors. The three of them were happily chatting away about the other tributes, but I stared at the floor. My costume was getting itchy.

The elevator finally reached our floor. We all hopped off as quickly as possible. But instead of going to eat with the other three and our stylists, I walked off to my room.

After changing out of the horribly itchy costume into some silk pyjamas, I ordered some random food to eat. There was no point of taking the makeup off. I kind of wanted to stain the white pillows.

I decided that I liked the room in the Training Centre far better than the one on the train. I could look out the window at the city lights below, and it made me feel like I was a small piece of something much bigger. It gave my brain some space to think, now that I wasn't the centre of the universe.

So Greyson didn't like me. In fact, he was almost like an older brother. It made how I feel about Trey much simpler. I decided that if I was going to die in a week, I wanted to it while thinking about his eyes. They really did resemble the ocean…

And they were right in front of me. "How's it going, Seyrin?"

I groaned. "Why are you here, Trey? It's like you're following me."

He feigned surprise. "But Seyrin, I am following you."

I raised my eyebrows, but said nothing as he came to sit next to me. He continued, "I've been thinking. And I talked to your parents. So I came to talk to you."

He paused, as if he were deciding how to put his thoughts into words. "It wasn't an accident you know," he said suddenly, and so quickly that I had to strain to hear what he had said. "You parents. They were leading a revolution. A little undercover group. You parents, and mine, and maybe a few others."

Trey looked at me, and his eyes bore into mine. "The – the stampede? What are you saying?" I cocked my head to the side, but was unable to stop looking into his eyes.

He nodded. "Yes. The Peacekeepers let the animals out. And then shot your parents."

Blinking rapidly, I forced myself to look away. My parents could have died. And it would have been the Capitol's fault.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I decided to try again. "I – I'm going to show them. I won't kill anyone. Because if I do, I'm no better than them."

"But Seyrin, that means dying." I looked back up at him to see his sad expression.

For the second time, I couldn't look away from his azure eyes. My voice came in a raspy whisper. "I know."


	5. Swirls of Emotion and Paint

**Hi again! :D  
>Still don't own anything, sadly.<br>**

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><p>Trey pulled me into his arms and hugged me tight. "It's going to be alright," he whispered in my ear. I couldn't help but shiver. He kissed me on the cheek, and that made the shivering worse. But I kind of liked it.<p>

I must have fallen asleep at some point, because when I peeled my eyes open, I was alone on the bed. I had never felt so lonely.

That was when I saw my pillows. They had been artfully stained from my excessive amount of makeup, and I took comfort in the fact that I had finally done something that I had set out to do. It was a pleasant thought.

As I stood at the sink washing away my racoon eyes, it was impossible not to think about the days to come. Would the other tributes be awful? I imagined some of them would. From what I remember from the videos, they looked pretty nasty. In it to win it, as they say. I didn't blame them. If my parents hadn't been hurt by Peacekeepers, I would have tried to win, too.

That was when I realized that I'd forgotten I could actually take a shower here. I had spent a good ten minutes cleaning my face when I could have just hopped in the shower. I turned to face it, trying to make sense of all the buttons. I pushed a bunch of random ones, not really caring how it turned out. Apparently, I'd done something right, because I got hot water and soap that smelled of lemons. It was cool, because I only had to stand there. I didn't even have to hold the soap by myself.

When I got out, I kept with the theme of just standing there while my hair was dried and sorted out by another machine. It even pulled my blonde hair back into a ponytail with an elastic band. I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy that we didn't have these in the community home.

Before I could begin my day's worth of wallowing in self-pity, my prep team came in and dressed me in my outfit for the next three days in the Training Centre. Luckily, it was plain; a black tunic with a brown sash and brown polyester pants to match. I got to wear black combat boots. There was an embroidered version of District 10's symbol above my heart in red. It was cute.

As soon as my team left the room, I grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the strings of the embroidery off. No one needed to remember me.

That was when I couldn't wait any longer to go eat, I decided to take it upon myself to go find Greyson and have breakfast with him. I knocked on my door, and he answered immediately. I sighed in relief; he wasn't dressed in the same outfit as I was. He had a tight, blue shirt on with the red embroidery over the heart. It was paired with black pants and combat boots that were similar to mine. It was funny to see him in combat boots, because they're something he would have never considered otherwise. Plus, they looked weird on someone who used crutches.

I smiled at him and we walked together to the dining room.

Even though I was trying not to talk to the mentors, it was kind of hard to sit at a table with them and not make casual conversation. When Greyson and I had walked in, Chelah and Peten looked up from their coffee, but then back down into their cups. It seemed that they had had a disagreement. Probably over something pointless, like who got to be served breakfast first or which one of us tributes would survive longer.

I sat down next to Chelah at the large oak table with Greyson on my other side. She handed me a plate and motioned to a buffet table that was overflowing with food. I shook my head. What did I care if I was strong enough for the Games? I decided instead to just drink hot chocolate and to pick off Greyson's plate. He made a face, but didn't complain.

"So," Chelah began awkwardly.

"So," Greyson managed, even with his mouth full.

"Training starts today. Try to learn some stuff," Chelah continued.

We both nodded half-heartedly. Like either of us had a chance. A boy with a limp and a girl who didn't want to live anyway? We'd be gone by the end of the bloodbath.

Then we sat for another five minutes in silence.

"Good talk," I said, standing up. "I'll just be on way now. Greyson?" I turned to him, offering my hand. He rubbed his stomach then stood up, taking my hand.

"I guess I can be done eating," he grumbled. I couldn't help but laugh. That was when Besia stormed into the room.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU CUT ME OFF!" She was screaming her head off at one of the Peacekeepers.

"I'm sorry," he replied calmly, "but this year, I've been ordered to keep your hot chocolate consumption to a minimum. You were buzzing off the walls last year and drove President Snow insane."

She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. With a flick of her wrist, Besia dismissed him from the room.

Throughout their exchange, I'd leaned my head on Greyson's shoulder, trying not to laugh. I could feel him inhale sharply and hold his breath, so I imagined he was doing the same thing.

Besia walked over to me and grabbed my arm. I assumed it was time to go. The three of us walked to the elevator, with Greyson and me feeling happy and Besia with a raincloud over her strangely coloured head.

After an exhilarating elevator ride, we were left unceremoniously by Besia to find our own way to the Training Room.

We took a few wrong turns, but eventually Greyson and I found ourselves in the right room. It had been awkward, though; we'd walked in on a meeting for recovering drug addicts and some mentors discussing their tributes, both by accident.

Not surprisingly, we were the first two tributes to the Training Room. I checked the clock on the wall; it was only 9:00. Training was to start at 10. So we sat at opposite ends of the space right near the door and watched as the tributes shuffled into the room. An Avox came up to me and pinned my district number to the back of my shirt. I guess there had been no point in ripping out the embroidery. Oh well. We all sat in the same area, but not speaking much. No one sat together except for the Careers, who were laughing loudly. If I had to guess, I'd say that they were only trying to intimidate us and there wasn't actually anything funny. They must be nervous, too. After all, only one of them would survive, if that. My money was on the huge one, or his tiny partner. I didn't care about their names. The pair was acting weird, as if they wanted to hold hands or kiss or something. I think I thought that because something about the way the big guy looked at her that reminded me of Trey, even though Trey was much less muscled. I shook the thought from my head and focused on the instructors.

The last tributes to walk in were District 12. They were dressed in the same outfit. I silently thanked my prep team for not making go through something like that.

The head trainer, a lady whose name started with an 'A' or something, told us the rules. We were to go around from station to station as per our mentor's instructions. Each station taught a different skill, from knot-tying to sword-fighting. No attacking other tributes. Pretty simple stuff. I'd gathered that just from looking around the room and common sense.

I looked at the other tributes. Everyone looked slightly on the tense side. I was pretty average in height back home, but here I was one of the taller girls. No match for the huge guys though. There were three or four gigantic boys.

When the lady let us go where we please, I noticed that Greyson went to tie knots. I would guess that he was thinking survival over killing. By myself, I headed over the axes and decided I might as well learn something in these last few days of mine. The Careers followed me, and were handling the weapons with ease. I just practiced smacking the dummies with whatever part of the axe came in contact with them. Sometimes it was the wrong side, or even my arm, but I didn't really care. I was having a decent time just beating it up, but that can only last so long.

I didn't do much all morning. By the time it was lunch, I just sat at a table that was further away from everyone else, including Greyson. I sat and picked at a piece of bread while staring at my boots.

After lunch I did random little things, like making fires and climbing the rock wall over and over again. I was bored out of my mind. I didn't care enough about any of this. I couldn't believe that I had to endure another two days of this crap.

By the end of training the third day, I couldn't help but think about how much Theranne would like learning about these things. Of our group of friends, she enjoyed learning the most, and she got the best grades in school. The stations like edible plants made me think of her. Then the camouflage station reminded me of Rilee and how much he enjoyed art. I was surprised that I actually missed home as much as I did. _No,_ I reminded myself, _it's your friends you miss. Not the community home, or the other people, or school, or even your parents. _I couldn't help but be proud of my parents for standing up against the Capitol, though.

On the last day of training, all the tributes had a private session with the Gamemakers after lunch. Everyone had an idea of what they would do, except for me. I hadn't really accomplished much during my time there. The tributes were called in order of their districts, with the boy going first, then the girl. I went in after Greyson, not having a clue what to do.

As I approached their table, the man who sat in the centre said, "You may begin." His words are slightly slurred, and it's obvious that they'd all been drinking for some time now. They probably lost focus and interest after District 4. That was how I made my decision. I planned on blending in, so I decided I would climb the rock wall.

I scaled in under a minute and rang the bell. Then I jumped from the wall to the floor and began rolling around like a ninja. This was the most fun I'd had so far! I pretended they weren't watching me, which was more or less true anyway. I threw a knife at a dummy then smacked him over the head with an axe. I rolled back to the other side of the room again and painted some swirls of green and brown on my arm. I would try to keep those on; they looked kind of cool. That was when the Head Gamemaker dismissed me. I walked out of the room, admiring the work of art on my arm.

I walked back to the elevator by myself, but found that Greyson had waited there for me. We rode up together.

"So, how'd it go?" he asked me.

"Ehh, it was fine. I didn't know what to do, so I just ran around and random things." I decided honesty was the best policy in this case. "What did you do?"

"Not much," he responded. "I made a fire and hung some plants over it."

I was honestly confused. "Wait, how? What?"

He laughed. "I made some knots and hung them from the ceiling. Then I attached a little net that I made and put some berries and leaves over it that I knew were edible. I made a fire under them and then I ate the concoction." He smiled at me.

I laughed. "Well that must have been interesting to watch. Did it taste any good?"

"Nope," he responded, still smiling.

"No to what? Your demonstration being interesting to watch or the concoction tasting good?"

"Both," he said, and we laughed.

We decided that we had about an hour until going to dinner was necessary, so the two of us sat in his room and talked about how much we missed our friends back home.

After about an hour and a half, we walked to the dining hall on the tenth floor. I knew that tonight we'd get our scores, so everyone inside would be on edge.

When the doors were opened, Trey was standing there. He smiled at me and gave both me and Greyson hugs. It was sweet.

We went to sit down. Besia was making faces at her mug. When I gave her a funny look, she stuck out her tongue and said, "Coffee. Decaf. Yuck."

Chelah had waited for us before they started to eat, along with our stylists and prep teams. Peten, however, was shovelling soup and bread in his mouth. "And they finally show up," he muttered with his mouth full of food.

We went and sat down, and began to enjoy the different courses that the Avoxes brought us. There was fish soup, pork, mashed potatoes and other foods that I hadn't really indulged myself in since we were here. I'd been sticking to minimal food, but tonight I decided to eat some of the stuff that was put on the table. It was really good.

"So, were you two complete idiots today?" Peten asked us, pointing between the two of us with his fork.

"Peten, be nice," said Chelah, her forehead crinkling. "I'm sure they were fine."

"Actually, it sucked. I just made some ropes and a fire, and ate some food," Greyson said. "I'm hoping for a two, at best."

"Oh come on, I'm sure it was fine. They might interpret that as resourcefulness," said his stylist, a woman with deep blue scales. I realized with a jolt that I didn't know the names of any of the members of either of our prep teams, or our stylists. They must have mentioned them, but I didn't commit the information to memory. I also realized that I didn't care. I was going to die anyway; did they expect me to say their names as my final words? Ha, no.

I decided to pipe in. "I climbed the wall and rolled around like a ninja. I also drew this," I said, pointing at my arm.

"Lovely," said a voice behind me. Trey.

"Go back to the kitchen, boy, or you'll have your tongue cut out. And I'll do it myself," said Peten. Woah. Obviously Trey had been annoying them before we walked in. Typical of him, really. Trey didn't go back to the kitchen, though. He came and stood next to me instead.

Chelah sighed. "Let's just turn on the TV and watch the scores, okay? No one needs to be injured on our second last night together."

_It's also my second last night alive,_ I thought to myself. My eyes slid up to meet Trey's. I could tell from the way that he was blinking back tears that he was thinking the same thing.

* * *

><p><strong>Only one chapter left, guys! I hoped you've enjoyed it.<br>I'm not sure why, but I just really like the idea of Seyrin not caring about people's names, hahah. You might have noticed ;)  
>Review, please? Let me know what you think! :)<strong>


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